


Not Even Time

by kidcarma



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Dialogue Heavy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Escapism, F/M, Hajime Hinata deserves a break, Jabberwock Island (Dangan Ronpa), Neo World Program (Dangan Ronpa), Post-Canon, Recovery, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28270710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidcarma/pseuds/kidcarma
Summary: “But I worry that it makes me weak. That failing to move forward means I’ve let everything you worked so hard for go to waste. That it was in vain.”For a moment, there is only the wind.“Is that selfish, Chiaki? That I don’t want to move forward? That I don’t want to let you go?"-when the road ahead of him is long and daunting, Hinata wants to hit pause on it all.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Nanami Chiaki
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	Not Even Time

**Author's Note:**

> yall ever just want to stop time? shits coming at you too fast and all at once and every day that drags on is agonizing? no? yes.  
> hope you enjoy. that maybe this brings you comfort.

The sun sits low in the sky, resting just above the horizon, fading into nothingness as the air cools down around them just enough that the sand isn’t scalding, the way it is during high noon. Just enough that Hinata can kick off his sneakers, socks, sink his feet into the sand, letting the last of the sun’s rays wash over him, in the same breath that the ocean breeze whips his hair, an eternal stalemate between sweat and goosebumps, night and day- lingering in the limbo called dusk, he’s not certain time exists here at all. 

And that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

To wake up every day, lucky enough to live out the rest of his days on a private, tropical island, it’s easy to lose that, when he thinks about why he’s here. Why he can never leave. Why the sound of ocean waves crashing against the shore sounds more like prison, than freedom.

He guesses that’s why the sound of beeping and button clicking that rises above the sea is more comforting. 

“You’re sure going at that, huh?” Hinata’s tone is light as he turns toward Nanami, whose attention is directed toward the console in her hands. Her shoes and socks are likewise kicked off to the side, hood pulled up over head to prevent sand from sticking to her scalp as she reclines on the beach. 

“Mmm,” she hums with a gentle nod, and Hinata leans back on his elbows, tips his head back to get a glance at the screen. 

It’s nice like this.

A gust of wind rolls over their bodies, and Hinata shivers. It becomes harder to submerge himself in the simplicity of it all, for every minute that passes as he mindlessly follows her button clicks, the sun sits, still suspended, unmoving, refusing to dip any further into the sky.  
He finally tears his eyes away to look out over the ocean, as though that would catapult the setting sun to stop looming over them both, suddenly sickened by the perfectly vivid hues of the watercolor sky.

“Well, what did you expect?” Nanami rips him from it. “That was the way you programmed it to be.”

“I-” he grimaces. “I know that. It’s just unsettling, now that I’m seeing it.”

“Why did you do it, then?”

“Huh?”

“If you wanted the perfect illusion, why would you make a place where time stands still?”

She hasn’t moved, still holding the game above her face, lips pursed in concentration, but Hinata can feel her eyes on him. A point of contemplation. Of breaking.

When it takes him a pause too long, she finally discards the console off to the side, sitting up fully. Wraps her arms around her folded up legs, bringing them to her chest, and Hinata follows suit, resting his chin on his knees.

“It wasn’t about it being perfect. I just wanted somewhere to escape to. Some place that even time couldn’t touch. Out there, it’s-” his lower lip wobbles. “It’s a lot. They all look to me for guidance. And there’s so much we have to do. To overcome. And it’s all at once,” he chuckles. “I don’t know how you did it, Chiaki. I love them, but they’re a handful.”

“They sure are,” she smiles, small and sure and Hinata wishes he had that much brightness in the lopsided half grin he offers in return. “But they deserve to move forward. And so do you.”

“But I don’t _want to_ ,” he groans, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I want to hit pause. On it all.”

“It’s okay to need a break, Hajime.”

“You make it sound so easy,” his voice is airy. And when he looks over to her through the wetness welling up in his eyes, it’s so easy to remember why he’s come to her for comfort. Because she makes it sound easy and it’s almost believable. “But I worry that it makes me weak. That failing to move forward means I’ve let everything you worked so hard for go to waste. That it was in vain.”

For a moment, there is only the wind.

"Is that selfish, Chiaki? That I don’t want to move forward? That I don’t want to let you go? I’m afraid to forget what you sound like. What you look like. It’s fading from me. What happened in the program is already so hazy.”

“Hey.”

Her hand rests atop his, easing the tense fist he hadn’t even noticed he’d begun clenching into the sand. It makes him viscerally aware of everything around him- of the way his shirt has started to cling to his torso from the sweat of the anxieties he’s worked himself up to. Of the way his tie is suddenly too tight, choking tears out of him.

“So long as you have hope, I’ll always be with you, in your heart. Even if you trip and fall, I know you’ll keep moving forward with your head held high. So that’s why I’m not worried. I’m not afraid to disappear. I’ve always placed my hope in you, Hajime. I know you won’t let me down.” 

“I-”

“It’s going to be okay.”

Stunned into silence, Hinata’s breath seizes in his throat as she squeezes his hand, determined to do nothing more in that moment than commit every inch of her smile to memory, the way the sun casts warm reds and oranges across her cheeks, the folds in her jacket with the way it bunches up around her shoulders, the pin tucked into her hair- the one he has tucked safely away in his dresser back in the real world. And a sort of comfort settles into his bones, fully faithful that she is right. That nothing in the world could steal this memory away from him.

“So let’s do what you came here to do, yeah?” she retracts her touch, reaching over to pick up the video game she’d set aside, and the spell is broken. 

Hinata sniffles, wiping the few stray tears out of his eyes as he nods, scooting closer to her and resting his head on her shoulder.   
“Yeah.”

He’s more than content to sit like this. With the 8-bit music filling his ears, hands calloused with the burden of how he’d built the program up again from scratch, salvaging bits of code where he could but the hours he’d poured into building Nanami again from the ground up. Because she had been the result of a template for a guide, for a leader, for someone they could all find comfort in, fitting the grooves together like a puzzle, snuck away in the middle of the night to avoid suspicion as he tiptoed into the building, pods and monitors locked away- a room like a distant nightmare, none of them wanted to touch again if they could help it.

They’ll find him eventually, he knows. Half horrified at the prospect that he would lower himself into those pods again, wires and IV lines keeping him alive in what was almost a deathtrap for all of them, or really, a fate worse than death. 

For now though. For now it’s just this. Just them. Just them, and not even time can touch them.


End file.
